


Closer

by SpecterQueen



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Drinking, Fluff and Smut, Healing, M/M, POV Shiro (Voltron), Post-Season/Series 06, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 15:33:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14957294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpecterQueen/pseuds/SpecterQueen
Summary: [Post Season 06] Shiro spends his first few days coherent struggling to adjust to his new life. Keith eventually returns and has something important to tell him.





	Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Humor me, I needed to get this out of my system even if it's ridiculously inaccurate. Assume they found a way to wormhole back to Earth or just got there fast somehow.
> 
> (also sorry for any typos i don't normally write and edit this fast)

The first few weeks are surreal and fragmented, full of rest and recovery that surprisingly doesn’t have to be forced for a change. Shiro recognizes his surroundings as the only place he really considered a home before the Castleship. The Galaxy Garrison’s walls are familiar and comforting during those first stressful days.

His arm is gone. While it’s really been gone for quite a while, the reminder scrubs at his brain like steel wool, harsh and disturbing. More times than he can count he’s caught himself trying to flex fingers that simply aren’t there. The feeling it evokes sends spiders crawling over his skin and nausea churning in his stomach. Hunk and Pidge are already scheming up a replacement using Altean technology. Prosthesis tech is fairly common in most of the universe. For the time being, the old one has been removed.

Days pass in a haze of confusion. He’s fairly certain they’re keeping him sedated and he doesn’t have enough wits about him to protest. Everyone comes to visit at some point, or at least he thinks they do, but it’s Keith he remembers seeing asleep in a chair every night. He’s a constant, soothing presence in a time of distress.

Keith’s not there when the fog clears and he’s released from the hospital some undetermined length of time later. It’s Pidge that escorts him to his new home chattering excitedly about how well everything is going, including his new arm. She explains Keith, Allura, and Lance have gone off planet for some coalition business. Shiro wants to be disappointed they’re not there but he’s actually too proud for the emotion to properly sink in.

His place is definitely an upgrade from his previous standard issue apartment. Apparently, Sam had gained quite a bit of influence at the Garrison since his return and along with it came wealth. He demanded nothing but the best for the people he considers to be extended family. It’s a loft built in an old warehouse that had sat vacant for a while. The floor plan is open and the appliances new, though certainly not as advanced as what he’d grown accustomed to out in space.

Matt comes over the first day with gifts of food and clothes, keeping him company for hours. Pidge and Hunk relieve him later on and they have a nice dinner compliments of Hunk. He praises the kitchen but adds that his is even nicer and in a neighboring warehouse. They stay late to explain everything that had happened. It sounds like an impossible story but clips of scenes playing out in his mind prove it’s the truth.

His memories are still stuttering at odd points as the two sets try to cobble together into one. There are gaps and he senses some of them are important but can’t force anything to surface. This weighs heavily on his mind and almost distracts him from having to relearn how to do common everyday tasks one handed.

The third night he feels like he wants to sob until he purges every disjointed emotion from his being but the tears won’t come. He’s not angry about dying, he’s had plenty of time to make peace with that, but he’s more than a little confused as to how to keep living.

He’s sleeping a lot, a side effect he was informed is completely normal as his arm continues to heal. The dreams that visit him are visceral yet obscure, which is frustrating and disorientating when he wakes, more often than not covered in a sheen of sweat.

The fragments of the battle with Keith are the worst. For some tragic reason they come through with startling clarity, perhaps simply because they are so recent. Keith often stares back at him during these dreams and memories with an expression that is serene, subtly pained. Patient with undertones of affection. His fire is still there, no longer raging but rather burning steadily.

Shiro hears the hateful words that slip so easily from his mouth and wants to throw himself off his balcony. The violence, the burn on Keith’s face, the facility cracking apart around them. It’s a nightmare and while he knows part of him had been there, it still feels like someone else’s experience. Whatever the case, the pain he suffers because of it is real enough. How can he possibly be redeemed from such actions?

Then the fourth night sacred words come through, a phrase he can scarcely believe he had temporarily forgotten. He jolts awake with a gasp, sitting up to stare out the large, multi-paned windows. The desert is dark, stars sprayed across the sky, Garrison facilities glittering in the distance.

As the phrase “I love you” echoes through his mind, he’s finally moved to tears. He sobs until he can’t see or think straight, ripping out his white hair and curling into a fetal position. When the hiccups subside, he realizes while he may have already known Keith loves him, the verbalization casts upon him like a spell. It strengthens a blossoming ache in his heart that he’s been valiantly squashing for years.

Dare he even hope Keith will reciprocate his feelings? His highly inappropriate and deep feelings? They run through him like a current and he’s grown comfortable under their weight. He desperately wants to see Keith as soon as possible, chuckling to himself how that particular mood has come full circle for them.

They return the next day and he rushes to the hangars to meet them, once again donning his Garrison uniform. It’s a joyful reunion and hugging one armed will take some getting used to. He joins them for a debriefing, glad for the return to routine. Afterwards they plan a dinner for the next night and disperse to rest.

“You seem like you’re recovering well. How are you holding up?” asks Keith as they walk, helmet tucked under his arm.

“I’m doing okay.” Shiro glances at him and hopes his blush isn’t too obvious. “I’m slower at doing normal things, but I’m adjusting.”

Keith smiles. “That’s great. Is…is it okay if I stop by after I shower?”

“Absolutely, you’re welcome over anytime. I’m in the-“

“I know where they assigned you,” interrupts Keith. “I requested the unit next to yours.”

The information settles warmly into his gut and he can’t keep the smile from spreading on his face. “That’s nice.” And before he can stop them, more words slip out. “I’m glad.”

During hastily tidying his loft, Shiro comes to the realization that he must play his cards right. Their bond is already so deep ruining it with unwanted confessions could cause serious damage. Plus, he really has no idea how to properly confess things like love. He deflates a bit before hearing pounding on his door. Of course Keith couldn’t be bothered with a doorbell.

Keith has a bottle of some kind of alien liquor in hand, explaining they were given crates of the stuff as a peace offering and refusing to take it would have been considered an insult. He offers to cook dinner and while Shiro is slightly scared of what this may entail he agrees. It ends up being pretty good and they make small talk as they eat.

Afterwards Keith brings two glasses and the alcohol to the living room, setting them on the coffee table and plopping down on the couch. He pats the seat next to him and nods in its direction, beckoning Shiro to join him. The mood between them seems more casual and relaxed. Keith pours them each a drink and they sip it experimentally.

“It’s good,” declares Keith after grimacing slightly. “Hell of a lot better than nunvil.”

Shiro laughs and takes another sip, trying to pace himself. He’s never been much of a drinker so he’s sure his tolerance is laughable. Keith talks about his mom a bit and Shiro listens intently, finishing his first glass then refilling it in hopes of calming his nerves. Even with improving memories it feels like it’s been a while since he’s been able to spend time with Keith like this.

Sitting on his couch and speaking casually, Keith looks content, strong, radiating a different kind of confidence than Shiro remembers. He thinks maybe he’s a little taller, broader, his hair a bit longer. The changes are subtle but his eyes pick them up nonetheless. The alcohol starts to warm his blood and he sets his cup down to fumble off his jacket. He gets stuck and lets out a frustrated huff.

“Here, let me help,” offers Keith, scooting closer and gently tugging the jacket off over his shoulders.

It’s then Shiro realizes he’s buzzed. Not quite drunk but working on it. Every place that Keith’s hands brush, even through fabric, makes his nerves sing. He stifles the hum that attempts to bubble up from within his chest and thanks Keith before sipping at his drink again. If he’s drunk maybe he won’t die of embarrassment, though he hasn’t really done anything worthy of it yet.

Keith finishes his drink and sets the cup down, turning his entire body towards Shiro and leaning against the cushions. “I missed you,” he declares, cheeks rosy.

Shiro feels his face grow hot in response and downs the rest of his drink in one gulp, only vaguely enjoying the pleasant space fruit flavor. “I missed you too,” he replies, relieved his voice comes out steady. “It feels weird…with these different memories. I’m a little confused about time, honestly, but it does seem like it’s been a while.”

“Do you remember what I said to you,” Keith tilts his head slightly, curious, “during our fight?”

Alarms start blaring in Shiro’s booze addled brain, but his lips move without hesitation. “I do. At least I’m pretty sure I do. I may have missed something.”

“Anything stand out?”

Shiro nods but says nothing further. He’s afraid if he begins talking about it he’ll spill his guts.

To his credit, Keith doesn’t look very put out Shiro’s not taking his bait. Instead he tackles the issue head on in classic Keith style. “Do you love me, Shiro?”

Fuck.

“Of course I do.” Thankfully, the ‘more than you know’ doesn’t slip out too.

Keith rests his arm on the top of the couch cushion and leans his head against it, closing his eyes. “Tell me.”

Distracted by the black eyelashes fanning out against pale skin Shiro pauses before responding. “I love you, baby.”

Well, shit. He hadn’t meant to say it like that.

Latching onto that artery of truth, Keith slowly opens his eyes with a soft almost sad smile. “Are you in love with me or do you just love me?”

“I…I can’t answer that.”

Keith’s smile shifts into something heartbreaking. He lifts his head. “Ah…rejection then.”

Wait, what?

“H-hold on a second…” Shiro trails off as his eyes widen. “Are you trying to tell me you’re in love with me?”

“Why do you think I brought the booze?” Keith laughs. “Liquid courage and social lubrication.”

“Keith-“

“But yeah, sorry about that…um, we can pretend it never happened. I honestly just want you in my life, it doesn’t matter how, I-“

“ _Keith_ ,” interrupts Shiro more loudly. He stares directly into Keith’s eyes, takes a deep breath, and speaks deliberately. “Keith, I’m in love with you too.”

Even though he had technically been the one to initially confess, Keith looks like a deer caught in headlights. His eyes are wide, mouth hanging open slightly, cheeks growing a dusky pink. A moment of silent calm passes between them as they process the confessions. Surprisingly, Shiro is the one to break it, closing the minimal gap between them and leaning forward. Keith meets him without hesitation and their lips brush once before smashing together clumsily.

Shiro can barely remember the last time he’d kissed anyone but he’s positive it never felt this good. Their lips slide together, sloppy and desperate, tongues quickly seeking each other out to twine and search. Keith kisses exactly the way he talks, confident and brash, passionate. Shiro drinks it in, soul rejoicing at the realization of deep seated desires. He honestly thought it would never come to this and he’s trembling with anticipation of things his mind can’t even presently conjure.

He uses the only hand he’s got left to touch Keith’s face, slides it across his jawline, down his neck, caresses a collarbone. Keith continues kissing him, hands roaming much more liberally, and gently pushes him until he reclines onto the couch. He crawls over Shiro and slots their bodies together before teasing him with a few brief kisses.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks after sucking in Shiro’s bottom lip and biting it gently.

“Mmm, yeah, totally.” It’s all he can manage through his haze of growing lust. Keith grinds against him a couple times and he’s already getting hard.

They make out on the couch until they’re both panting and painfully aroused. Keith shoves his hands up Shiro’s shirt, exploring his chest, and by the time he shoves one down his pants he feels like he’s going to explode.

“Stop! Ah…stop!” Shiro grasps Keith’s wrist and yanks his hand free.

“No good?” asks Keith looming over him.

“Too good,” answers Shiro with a weak laugh. “I was gonna come,” he adds embarrassed.

“Isn’t that the point?”

“Yeah, but this is our first time together.” Shiro rises up on his elbow and Keith sits back. “I want it to last a little longer.”

“Okay.” Keith stands up and tugs off his shirt, then extends a hand towards him. “Let’s move to the bed.”

The walk to the bed is short but it seems to take forever. Before Shiro can sit down, Keith takes his shirt off, eyes roaming over his chest and the tender scar tissue on what little is left of his right arm. He starts to reach up to cover it but Keith palms his erection through his pants. He moves forward slightly, leaning to whisper into Shiro’s ear.

“How much do you wanna bet I could make you come in your pants?” His voice is low and husky, hitting buttons Shiro didn’t even know he had.

“ _Fuck_.” It’s the only thing that comes to mind, as a curse word and as an act.

“Good answer.”

Keith moves back slightly to open Shiro’s pants and tug them down, boxers and all. He pauses for a moment to gawk at Shiro’s cock as it springs free and he can feel his face heating up under the gaze. After nodding in approval, Keith shoves him down against the mattress and yanks his pants and underwear completely off. He feels utterly exposed and struggles not to cover himself. Keith fishes a little bottle out of his pocket and tosses it onto the bed before taking off his own pants.

Now it’s Shiro’s turn to gawk. Keith is all compact, lean muscle in streamlined planes and angles. His shoulders are definitely a bit wider and chest more defined. Shiro pushes himself further onto the bed and spreads his legs as Keith crawls between them. Maybe he senses Shiro’s self-consciousness or maybe he’s just smitten, but Keith leans down and reverently kisses his way up his chest and neck before settling on his mouth.

Their cocks rub together and it ignites a fire in Shiro that burns with urgency. Gasping into Keith’s mouth, he grasps at his back and blindly thrusts upwards, seeking friction. “Please…”

“What do you want, babe? Tell me.”

“I…mmm-” Shiro hums with pleasure at the slide of skin against skin, savoring each point of contact. “I want you inside me.” He forces the words out blushing furiously.

Keith withdraws and Shiro whines in protest. He pets Shiro’s abdomen as he retrieves the nearby bottle and pops the lid open. “Have you done this before?”

Shiro nods as he looks away out the windows. Anybody walking by could see what they’re doing but somehow he doesn’t care. He feels Keith grip one of his thighs and nudge it to the side further, exposing him even more. Keith prods his hole gently as warning, then slips a finger in.

It feels exactly like he remembers, invasive and slightly uncomfortable but not painful. If Keith does it right, it shouldn’t hurt at all. Keith spends the next fifteen minutes or so carefully stretching him with uncharacteristic patience. Towards the end he even finds Shiro’s prostate, rubbing at its edges until Shiro is writhing and leaking and begging for release.

“Are you ready?”

He hears Keith’s voice cut through a dense curtain of desire and gropes for him. “Yes…please, Keith…” His voice sounds so foreign to his ears in that moment, cracking with desperation.

“Shhhh, I got ya, baby.”

Stroking Shiro’s cock as he pushes in is a brilliant and distracting move on Keith’s part, but the burn is still there. He pushes in about halfway before pulling out, only to slide home once again. On the third thrust he bottoms out, knocking the breath from Shiro’s lungs. He feels so full, so sated, so complete. Keith thrusts again and he tosses his head back and groans.

“You okay? Does it hurt?” Keith pauses, breathing heavily.

“I’m fine.” Shiro grabs one of Keith’s hands and kisses it absently. “Keep going.”

Keith sets an even pace and eventually the burn evolves into pleasure, though Shiro didn’t mind the sting. It’s proof he’s alive and connected with Keith in such an intimate way. He feels every drag and pull of the cock inside him, reveling in all of the intense sensations it’s evoking. Occasionally, Keith leans down to kiss him, sloppy and uncoordinated as he thrusts. His hands rarely stop moving over Shiro’s body, exploring and caressing.

Forgetting how vocal he tends to get during sex, Shiro covers his mouth to stifle a particularly loud moan. Keith growls in irritation and pries the hand away, placing it on his dick instead.

“Put that to better use. I want to hear you and I don’t care if you wake up the neighbors.”

It doesn’t take much more than a few strokes for Shiro to let out a litany of cries as the building pressure sprints towards a pinnacle. It lulls briefly and he hangs suspended in that moment of anticipation, admiring Keith working diligently above him, black hair swaying with each thrust and eyes boring intently into his own.

“Shiro…Shiro…”

Keith chants his name like a prayer and that tips him over the metaphorical edge. He clamps down and spasms around Keith as stars start dancing in his peripherals. He distantly hears the cry that bursts forth followed by a keening whine as he spills hotly all over his abdomen and even on his face. The orgasm waves through his body in pleasant jolts, tingling all the way to his toes and fingertips.

Basking in the afterglow, he blinks and witnesses Keith grunt and squeeze his eyes shut just as his hips stutter to a stop. Shiro feels the slight swell of Keith’s cock, then the rush of pulsing heat deep inside his body and hums happily. He reaches for Keith and brings him down for a lazy kiss that they pant harshly through.

“I love you, Shiro.” Keith breathes the words directly into his mouth.

“I love you too, Keith.” His thumbs skirts across the scar and he tries to ignore the stab of pain in his heart. “I’m sorry…”

“Stop that,” snaps Keith, making an interesting face as he slides out of Shiro and rolls onto his side. “No apologizing. That was perfect, I’m on cloud 9 right now.”

Shiro rolls towards him and smirks. “I couldn’t help but notice that you brought lube. Did you plan this?”

Keith barks out a laugh and wipes some come off Shiro’s face. He pops the digit into his mouth and sucks it clean, distracting Shiro. “I was…hopeful but nowhere near sure.”

“You’re ridiculously endearing,” says Shiro before yawning. “As much as I would love a second round, I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah, me too. Hold on.”

Sliding off the bed, Keith disappears into the bathroom and comes back with a damp cloth. He cleans Shiro’s body and pulls down the covers, tucking him in. Finally, he turns off the lights, then hesitates at the edge of the mattress.

“If you don’t spend the night I will be personally affronted. Get over here.” Shiro pats the empty space next to him.

Keith lets out huff that almost sounds like a laugh and slips under the covers, sidling up to Shiro. He wraps around the larger man, spooning him comfortably against his body. Shiro deflates in the protective embrace, feeling contentment seeping into his bones.

“What are we gonna tell everyone?” he mumbles, already drifting off.

“The truth,” answers Keith, kissing his shoulder and settling back against the pillows. “Something tells me they won’t be very surprised.”

“I hope so…goodnight, Keith.”

“Sweet dreams, Shiro.”       

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! My tumblr is [ghostmoonchild](http://ghostmoonchild.tumblr.com/) if you feel like screaming lol

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Closer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15158201) by [Luovien (Aeiouna)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeiouna/pseuds/Luovien)




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